


Adapt, Improvise, and Overcome

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Getting Back Up Again [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Spooks | MI-5, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 18:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Evan Lorne walks into a bar (pub) and meets...Mycroft Holmes!Or rather Evan's in his favorite pub and Mycroft Holmes approaches him looking to utilize his unique set of skills for a task that requires utmost discretion.





	Adapt, Improvise, and Overcome

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the incredible SherlockianSyndromes for her beta assistance!

Evan glanced at his watch for the third time and sighed. He knew the game with Lucas - Lucas was a spook for MI-5, and counter-espionage didn’t care about things like dates, anniversaries, or birthdays. He’d picked Lucas’s second-favorite pub because even though Lucas was out at work now, he was still very private and didn’t want his coworkers interrogating Evan. Not that Ros and Ruth and Malcolm and the rest hadn’t come by Evan’s bakery more than once. Evan had been well-educated in the ways of counter-intelligence. A few pointed questions over the till and a slice of Bakewell tart weren’t going to shake him, not after what he had survived with the SGC and Atlantis. 

Lucas had mentioned that his team in Section D wanted to take him round the pub for a pint. The pub he liked best was frequented by intelligence officers from both The Grid and Vauxhall Cross, so Evan was in Lucas’s second favorite pub. 

Evan preferred the Black Lion to the Fox and Pheasant because it served better food, but Lucas insisted the Fox and Pheasant had better drinks. Evan was of the opinion that the Black Lion had better service, too, but then the barman and the Friday night hostess at the Fox and Pheasant both fancied Lucas, so Lucas got excellent service there (Evan didn’t get nearly as good service if he went in alone). Despite Lucas’s preferences, Evan and Lucas frequented the Black Lion enough that they had a usual table. 

Even though Evan had been living in England for two years now, in some ways he still felt more like a tourist than a resident, probably because he and Lucas played tourist more often than not when they both had a day off. As a result, Evan liked the rustic-looking decor at the Black Lion instead of the more modern atmosphere at the Fox and Pheasant. Perhaps after years of cement corridors at the SGC and then the hyper-modern-seeming hallways of Atlantis, the soft golden lighting and heavy, dark wooden furniture, exposed ceiling beams, stone fireplace, and metal wall fixings of the restored Tudor building seemed new and exciting. Evan and Lucas’s usual table was in a corner, where they could take turns having their back to the wall and feeling a bit more secure.

Given that Lucas’s day had taken a turn for the difficult at work - and was going to be made longer and more difficult for socializing with coworkers after - Evan was willing to let Lucas have the more secure vantage point once he arrived. Evan ordered a pint of Lucas’s favorite and sipped at it slowly, since Lucas took perverse pleasure in stealing Evan’s drinks and Evan didn’t plan on getting drunk anyway. He’d gone to a lot of work to figure out when Lucas’s birthday was, and he had plans to celebrate that didn’t end at the pub, not by a long shot. So he went to slide out of his seat and offer it to Lucas when he saw someone approach out of the corner of his eye, only the man who sat opposite him was decidedly not Lucas.

It took Evan a moment to recognize the short, balding man in the three piece suit perched on the edge of the bench on the other side of the booth.

“Major Evan Lorne, United States Air Force,” the man said. He had a crisp, well-educated accent, possibly came from money. Evan realized he’d never heard the man speak before, only seen him.

“Retired,” Evan said mildly. He tilted his head. “You come into the shop sometimes, don’t you? With Mrs. Hudson and her two tenants, Sherlock and John - Dr. Watson.”

“Yes,” the man said, inclining his head. His eyes were lit with challenge. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you remember me, of course. After all, being on a gate team at Stargate Command and then second-in-command and chief logistics officer in the City of Atlantis for four years requires an astute memory, does it not?”

“It does,” Evan said carefully. The fact that he’d been with the SGC and Sheppard’s 2IC on Atlantis wasn’t classified anymore, what with the declassification that had started earlier this year, but it wasn’t common knowledge either. Evan had been away from the program for two years and Teldy had taken over as Sheppard’s 2IC after him, so even though his name appeared in declassified memos, the media limelight was far, far from him. “Although it’s been two years since I’ve served in that capacity. Being able to remember regular customers is a useful skill in running a bakery, too.”

“Yes, it is.” The man smiled, amused. “It has been two years since you retired from the Air Force despite your stellar service record and opportunities for many promotions in your career, but given your taste in men, perhaps your retirement is not that strange. Granted, now Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell has been repealed, so you could have waited.”

“Just because rules change doesn’t mean minds do, not right away,” Evan pointed out. 

“Indeed. Which is why your lover, Lucas North, was quite hesitant about coming out to his colleagues at work, I’m sure.”

Evan sat up straighter. What did this man know about Lucas’s work?

“Of course, I’m sure his opportunistic, tactical employers care less about his preferences and more about what they can do with them, like honey-potting male foreign intelligence officers.”

Evan swallowed hard. He knew Lucas was bi, and also knew Lucas did things in the name of his work that Evan didn’t ask about.

“That  _ you _ are Lucas’s current lover may be giving his employers some pause, though,” the man continued. “Given your previous line of employment.”

Evan took a deep breath, but he curled his hands into fists. Assuming the man opposite him was unarmed, he could take the man in a physical altercation, but he wasn’t sure the man was unarmed, or that he was alone. “What is it you want?”

“I have a need for your skills,” the man said. “You have a very unique set of skills and access to unusual resources. The man who kept Atlantis supplied with tiramisu is surely capable of assisting me in my...task.”

That the man knew about small, personal details, like Evan’s tiramisu, which was an Atlantis favorite, meant he was well-connected. That he knew about Lucas’s work meant he worked in intelligence instead of with the press - although didn’t Lucas say that one of his former colleagues had started as an investigative reporter?

“What about my skills?” Evan pressed.

“You’ll be compensated appropriately, of course, but I will need the utmost discretion until the task is complete.” The man didn’t lean in and lower his voice or give any other sign that he demanded immediate discretion, which meant he was utterly sure of his privacy in this very public place. 

Evan scanned his surroundings briefly. No sign of Lucas. He did spot some of the pub’s other regulars, but there were also faces he didn’t know. That wasn’t unexpected on a Friday night. For the first time in a long time, Evan missed the pistol he’d always had strapped to his thigh, the radio at his left ear so backup was only a radio call away.

Evan leaned in and lowered his voice, though he kept his expression friendly, as if nothing untoward was occurring in this conversation. 

“Just me? You’ll leave Lucas out of it?”

The man arched an eyebrow, amused, but nodded.

“And if I refuse?”

“Accepting my offer would be very beneficial for your bakery,” the man said, and he still looked amused.

Evan knew a threat when he heard one. A thousand possibilities flew through his mind, from harassing health and safety inspections to his ingredients being poisoned to the bakery burning down to -

“Mycroft, why do you never pay attention to your phone? I texted you five times.” It was John, Dr. Watson, who appeared beside their table.

Mycroft’s amusement vanished. “I have everything under control.”

Evan’s heart was pounding. Were all of Mrs. Hudson’s regulars involved in whatever this Mycroft character did? Mrs. Hudson seemed so unassuming, but people underestimating her would make her quite the intelligence asset.

The smile Dr. Watson offered Evan was open and sweet and completely uncalculating, but then Evan had had to pretext on missions, and he’d seen Lucas in action once or twice, knew how open and sweet Lucas could be when he had espionage as his goal.

“Sherlock’s birthday is in three weeks, and we want to throw him a surprise party,” Dr. Watson said. “I’m pretty sure your bakery is the one he likes best, but we’re not sure what his favorite type of cake is. We were hoping maybe you’d sussed it out.”

Evan cast Mycroft a sharp look.  _ “That’s _ what you were asking for? Why didn’t you just say so?”

Mycroft looked annoyed.

Dr. Watson also cast Mycroft a look. “You did it again, didn’t you?”

“I told you I had everything under control,” Mycroft protested.

“For a man who might be smarter than Sherlock Holmes, you’re incredibly stupid sometimes,” Dr. Watson said. “He did the thing, didn’t he? Where he came off sounding like some spook wanting you to get embroiled in espionage.”

“Major Lorne has nothing against spooks,” Mycroft said, and he sounded a little sulky.

Evan well knew brilliant men who were less than savvy when it came to people. “A birthday cake for Sherlock. Do you happen to know what kinds he’s had in the past?”

“My little brother had a penchant for always...picking a flavor he knows I prefer,” Mycroft admitted.

Evan eyed him, intrigued. He and Sherlock looked nothing alike.

Mycroft must have been aware of that, because he caught Evan’s gaze and said, “Yes, yes, what my brother lacks in intellect he makes up for in pointiness about the face.”

“Well, as his brother, you probably know him best, so what kinds of flavors does he like as far as -” Evan had to fumble for the English terms - “sweets or chocolate bars or biscuits? Even if he wasn’t much for cake, I can make a cookie cake, or even an ice cream cake, or even just a tower of biscuits. If he doesn’t like sweets per se, I can make something else edible that you can put candles on. For the sake of the party.”

Mycroft cast Dr. Watson a superior look and clasped his hands on the table, businesslike. “As I said, Major Lorne, I have a need for your skills.”

Evan said, “I’ll give you till my boyfriend shows up. If we haven’t come up with a solution by then, you can stop by the bakery during regular business hours.”

“Excellent. I knew you’d see things my way.” Mycroft looked amused once more.

Dr. Watson plopped down in the booth beside him. “You’re doing it again. What he means is  _ thank you for your help.” _ He cast Evan an apologetic smile.

“Sherlock has occasionally expressed a preference for Jaffa cakes,” Mycroft said.

Evan nodded, making a mental note. “All right. I can work with that. Anything else?” He glanced at Dr. Watson.

Dr. Watson’s expression turned distant, thoughtful.

Evan sat back, relief trickling through his limbs. As much as he was glad Mycroft wasn’t trying to recruit him for some kind of spook scheme, he couldn’t wait for Lucas to get there.

“Mycroft Holmes,” Lucas said, pausing at Evan’s elbow.

Evan looked up, smiled at him.

“Mr. North,” Mycroft said.

“How are things at the Home Office?”

“Fine. And The Grid?”

“Fine.” Lucas put a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Is everything all right?”

“Mycroft,” Evan said, “is Sherlock’s elder brother.”

“Mrs. Hudson’s tenant?”

Evan nodded.

Lucas eyed Mycroft and Dr. Watson, assessing.

“They want to throw Sherlock a surprise party but aren’t sure what kind of cake he likes. You help out at the bakery quite often. What do you think?” Evan smiled up at him.

Some of the tension in Lucas’s shoulders eased, and he sat down beside Evan, slid an arm around his shoulders. “I’ve only ever seen him purchase the same flavor twice, and that was your pistachio cardamom cake with the rosewater frosting,” he said.

Both Mycroft and Dr. Watson looked startled.

Evan said, “Well, we have a start. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have another birthday celebration to see to.”

He nodded at Lucas, who nodded as well, rose up, and both of them headed for the door.

“New plans for my birthday supper?” Lucas asked.

“Adapt, improvise, and overcome,” Evan said wisely. He paused, kissed Lucas softly on the mouth. “Happy Birthday.”

Lucas smiled. “Thank you. I think maybe we both need to find new favorite pubs.” He held the door open for Evan.

Evan shrugged on his jacket. “Agreed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Who made a list of the names of every single pub she passed while she was in England nine years ago? This girl. Who kept it through multiple phone changes? Also this girl. And finally it was useful. Though I don't think either of the pub names used here are actually in London...


End file.
